


New York New York (The Alienist Edition)

by ThatOne749



Series: The Alienist fics [1]
Category: The Alienist (TV), The Alienist - Caleb Carr
Genre: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Underage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 10:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16093562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOne749/pseuds/ThatOne749
Summary: Little fic about what was going through Joseph and John Moore's heads during the murders. Mix of book and TV cannon. Obviously in the Alienist there is a focus on child prostitution, so if that triggers you, please do NOT read. (I've tried to keep explicit references to a minimum but the fic deals with some pretty horrifying stuff)





	New York New York (The Alienist Edition)

Mister Moore was the nicest adult he'd ever known, although, to be fair he didn't have a really high bar to climb over anyway, most adults he knew were johns out for the night or preachers that wanted to 'save his soul'.

Yeah right, like his soul was worth saving, he _knew_ how people saw kids like him, and most wouldn't give a damn if they all dropped dead tommorrow, except for the smell of it.

Well, Mister Moore would, he was decent like that, Joseph could still remember meeting him and that detective on Golden Rule's roof, they were _different_ from the other cops.

“ _Yeah, Bernadette, that's 'cause one of em ain't a cop, and t'other's a Jew an' everyone says they're different anyhow.”_

That was how most of his friends described it to him, who were _older_ and had been here longer, so knew what sort of men were in the neighbourhood.

But they didn't have their make-up wiped off their faces, nor an arm wrapped around them by Mister Moore when they were scared, like _he_ was when he'd thought about Fatima's saint on the roof. Most adults woulda just told him to scram. Or tried to fuck him.

But _not Mister Moore_.

That Detective, he supposed, was kinda okay, even if he did try to arrest him on ' _interferin with cop business_ '.

 _But_ he was Mister Moore's friend, so that made him sorta okay.

“Hey, Bernadette.” The call broke Joseph out of his daydream, forcing him to quickly put on his 'Bernadette' face. Joseph couldn't deal with the brothel, not like Bernadette could, it was easier to be Bernadette during working hours, put Joseph to the back of his head till closin' time.

“Wacha' want Lilly?” he called back, moving over to her, remembering that they were all made up for the night, being careful as ever to call the girls by their 'names'.

“Your _customer's '_ ere.”

_Customer,?_

Ah damn it was prob'ly Mister Carlile, a guy so fat it was amazin' he could get into the Golden Rule.

Surely another girl could handle it for a second, he needed to mentally prep himself for dealing with _that_ shitsack again, put on his _scared Bernadette_ face, cos Mister Carlile always liked his girls to be scared.

He mentioned this to Lilly, who looked at him funny.

“Na', it's the fancy one, ya' know? I think Fatty ain't comin till after twelve.”

 _Ah_ shit shit _shit_!

He glanced over, and sure as anythin, Mister Moore was comin into the Golden Rule and looked up to glance at _him_. And for one second, it wasn't Bernadette standing in her _home_ , but scared Joseph standing in a damn _brothel_. He wanted to run so much, but Mister Moore was here, and he didn't want him to think that _Joseph_ was a coward.

Just as some stupid shitsack came up next to him to stroke his face, he quickly forced Bernadette back in place, and gave a few small hand signals to Lilly, who came over and used her charms to lead the customer to an empty room.

Forgetting everything about questions from the girls, and the looks he'd probably get, he ducked into another vacant room, pulled off his wig, and grabbed a rag to wipe off as much make up as he could as quickly as he could.

_I don' wanna let Mister Moore see me like this._

The first time he'd met Mister Moore and that Detective, Mister Moore had cleaned up his face, wiping away Bernadette and leaving Joseph, and Mister Moore seemed to prefer Joseph to Bernadette.

 _Why_ he had no idea, but he wasn't about to make Mister Moore face Bernadette _here_ when he prob'ly wanted to speak to _Joseph_ , not some boy-whore.

He'd never thought of _himself_ as a boy-whore whilst wearing a dress, it was something to _survive_ , sure everyone _thought_ him and the girls were boy-whores, but what did they know about survival.

That thought would, he knew, lead to bad memories, so quickly stopped it there, and concentrated on getting the _damn paint_ off his face as fast as he could.

Eventually, after _ages_ , he finally got all of the paint off his face, leaving a much smaller, scared looking boy staring at him from the mirror wearing a wig and dress. Tearing the wig from his head, and tucking it under his skirt, he made his way outa the room and towards the tables, where he quickly found Mister Moore sitting and focusing on a _girl_.

That shouldn'ta sent a spike of hurt through Joseph but it did. The girl was probably bow legged and stupid anyway, and couldn't do _anythin_ for herself.

Until he looked at the girl, and realized, he didn't _know her_ , which was odd, and that _she looked miserable_.

Ah, Mister Moore prob'ly was here on that 'catch' he explained to Joseph over billiards the other day, so the _girl_ could'a been with the cops.

As he got closer to Mister Moore, who hadn't taken his eyes off the girl, he realized that Mister Moore looked _nervous_ , not like he wanted sex.

And Joseph _really_ shouldn'ta felt good at that, but he did, he felt like jumping and shouting that Mister Moore _hadn't_ forgotten about him.

He sat down on the chair blocking his view from the girl a bit, but that didn't matter, cos the _little baby_ part of his head kept saying _I want Mister Moore to look at_ me _I'm Joseph now, not Bernadette._

And boy did Mister Moore jump.

“Joseph!” it was almost funny how he could put scared and worried and happy all into one whispered word.

“Hey Mister Moore.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments are gratefully received


End file.
